


Tick Tock

by Macywacy



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:21:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macywacy/pseuds/Macywacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's like a ticking time-bomb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tick Tock

**Author's Note:**

> If you're easily triggered by suicide, be warned that this has heavy suicide themes.

It’s quiet in the darkness her small living space. In fact, it’s unnervingly quiet. She’s been sitting on the sofa for what could have been hours—maybe days—she’s not sure anymore. Time is no longer of the essence.

_Tick tock._

 

She somehow finds the energy to scan the room once more, as if she’s drinking in the sight for the first time. There’s her uniform, neatly folded and laid on the edge of the floral chair that used to be her favorite. The black telephone that sits on the table is askew from its normal position; the curled cord that connects the receiver to its counterpart is still swinging from where she dropped it. On the hardwood floor underneath her bare feet is the scattered remnants of the paperwork she brought home with her. Somehow she managed to knock the pile over in her dazed state. On the coffee table in front of her is one item: one of the two—no,  _one_  now—things that’s stayed with her since Ishval. Her sidearm.

_Tick tock._

Hawkish brown eyes turn back to the sound that’s kept the last few threads of her sanity together: the clock on the wall. It’s a steady and never wavering sound, that steady  _tick-tock_ that fills the room with every second. She’s not sure what she’s waiting for, but she’s waiting. Staring. Hoping that somehow he’s going to show up at her door with that smirk she knows all too well.

But he won’t.

_Tick tock_

In that moment, Riza Hawkeye has complete and utter respect for the clock, who’s one and only duty in life is to provide the time to strangers. It never looks for a sign of thankfulness. It never regrets its job. It doesn’t sleep, and doesn’t cry. But, what will happen to it when time becomes obsolete to people? When its purpose in life no longer exists? Will it continue to be that one steady, strong beat in the silence of desperation? Or will it just cease and fade away with its purpose?

_Tick tock_

She keeps waiting. Maybe she’s waiting for the light in the darkness, both literally and figuratively. She might be waiting for that  _ah-ha!_ moment that will tell her she has something else to live for. She’s almost angry— _almost—_ at the fact that death is such a reoccurring theme in her life. That everyone she loves surely turns to dust in the end and slips through her fingers like sand in an hourglass.

_Tick tock_

But maybe now, she’s tired of waiting. She’s certainly had her fair share of it. Perhaps that’s just enough to hold on to. Enough to give her the strength to find her arms, enough to pick up the hunk of metal that used to feel so familiar in her calloused hands. Enough to pull the trigger.

_Tick tock._


End file.
